


Kneel

by Roo_Bastmoon



Category: Fushigi Yuugi
Genre: Angst, Non-Consensual Drug Use, Rape/Non-con Elements
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-12
Updated: 2013-08-12
Packaged: 2017-12-23 06:54:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,792
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/923292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Roo_Bastmoon/pseuds/Roo_Bastmoon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Yui drugs Tamahome, Nakago trains him to be a submissive lover.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Kneel

Tamahome wakes; sweat tickles his forehead and the back of his neck. He’s sick. His limbs feel like lead. The floor is dirty; the dust sticks to his skin—he’s covered in grime. And blood. 

He wants to curl in on his stomach, but he can’t. The shackles don’t allow him too much movement. Bright spots dance on the edge of his vision—he can barely make out the dark dungeon. He’s trembling, and can’t stop. Whatever Yui had made him swallow when she kissed him, now makes him whimper and shake. 

"Awake, Tamahome?"

That voice. He knows that chilling voice. The effort it takes to lift his head leaves him dizzy, exhausted. He pants, his mouth too dry to swallow.

"Nakago, you bastard. Where’s Yui?"

A slight rustle of silk—the Seiyuu general suddenly towers over him. "Still think you can save her? You should be more concerned for yourself . . ."

Deep, blue silk. Blond hair. Nakago’s voice brushes against Tamahome; it’s both pleasant and painful.

"Where am I?" Tamahome asks in a hoarse whisper.

"The finest dungeon in Kodou. Does it not please you to have the best?"

Tamahome can hear the smile—the sneer—in that voice. He hates it. Snarling, he struggles to sit up straight.

Nakago quirks an eyebrow in amusement. "Oh? Moving yet? You are indeed strong."

Tamahome’s vision swims; everything shimmers like waves of heat. He collapses back to the cold earth floor. 

Nakago crouches next to him and he tenses, expecting to be kicked, whipped, again. Instead, a large, calloused hand cups the back of his head and raises him to a glass of cool water.

It could be a trap. More poison. But he’s too thirsty to care.

He guzzles it, knowing Nakago is going to rip it away from him soon. Tamahome expects to be tortured for several days until the Suzaku warriors save him. Or he’s killed. 

He finishes the glass and opens his eyes, dazed. It was only water. And Nakago let him drink it all. Why?

He peers into the older man’s eyes. There are very few men he could call beautiful, other than Hotohori. But Nakago has a kind of grace—a masculine perfection—that Tamahome never really thought about, until he they’d met. It makes him nervous to think about it now.

"More?" Nakago indicates the empty glass. Tamahome shakes his head, trying to hide his wince when that hurts.

Nakago lowers him back to the floor and sets the glass down somewhere out of sight. "The water will only serve to accelerate the process, but I assumed you’d appreciate it none the less."

"Wh-what process?" Tamahome’s eyes widen.

"The drug Yui gave you. It will soon consume you. And then you will belong to her."

"Liar!" Tamahome whispers, horrified.

"I have been, on occasion, Ogre, but not today." Nakago smirks. "You will belong to her and do her biding. But before that," the blond traces a slender hand down Tamahome’s left side, "I must train you."

Shocked, Tamahome freezes. "Stop it!”

He opens his mouth to scream, but there’s no sound. He thrashes, panicking, struggling to get the other man’s hand off of him. The thought of being used this way—of losing his virginity to this man . . . 

“Miaka . . .”

"Still calling for your priestess, boy? I’ll have you scream my name before we’re through," Nakago says calmly, pulling the chains tighter across Tamahome’s sleek chest and abdomen, lifting him up until his wrists and ankles chafe, bleeding. When Tamahome dangles, limp, Nakago relaxes his hold.

"There is much to teach you, young Suzaku warrior. I look forward to being your master—"

"Never. No, no, no." Tamahome breathes the words over Nakago’s face. He gulps, trying to bolster his mental shields, trying to be brave, to distance himself from what is going to happen to his body . . .

The whiplashes across his back and legs still sting. Nakago runs a possessive hand over them. He tries to shift away, his body feeling heavy, useless, like a sack of sand. When he realizes that Nakago is edging closer, intending to kiss him, he blinks back tears.

"Crying so soon, Tamahome?" Nakago pauses. "I’m disappointed."

Nakago attacks his mouth without mercy. He forces Tamahome’s lips apart and delves inside, his hand on Tamahome’s chin—sharp, demanding—holding him still.

Tamahome arches as far back as he can, but Nakago has only to take another step forward and they are flush together. Strong arms come around his back, pressing on his open wounds viciously.

He moans, giving in when Nakago’s tongue strokes his teeth and the corners of his mouth. Focusing on keeping his breathing steady, Tamahome endures, until Nakago finally pulls away.

"What, the fight in you gone so easily?" Nakago sneers.

Tamahome surges up and bites Nakago's chin, drawing a bit of blood before he reels back, hanging from the chain. 

Nakago neither flinches or frowns. Smiling, his captor bends down and bites him, just as hard, on the tender cords of his throat.

"Ah!" 

Nakago sucks savagely, then smears the blood and saliva down Tamahome’s neck with his tongue.

He pants, staring at the Seiyuu warrior, amazed to find his groin responding. Guilt and shame shoot through him, and he lowers his head. 

Nakago finishes lapping at his throat and lifts his head and to paint Tamahome’s lips with his own blood. Tamahome groans in supplication—but he’s not sure if he wants Nakago to stop, or . . .

Nakago flicks the tip of his tongue across the shell of Tamahome’s ear; he shudders.

"You know some part of you wants this,” Nakago whispers. “You long for it; for me . . . Hm. Even without the drug." Nakago nips at his ear.

"No." Tamahome swallows thickly.

"No? Who’s lying now?" Nakago hands travel south, over Tamahome’s aching muscles, around his hip, between his legs. 

"Ugh! Don’t! Stop!"

Nakago’s hand strokes over his mound slowly; Tamahome arches into it.

"Don’t worry," Nakago murmurs. "I have no intention of stopping."

Nakago grips his tattered shirt with both hands and tears it, discarding the shreds carelessly on the floor. He rakes Tamahome with his gaze; the lust Tamahome sees in Nakago’s expression is shocking. His jaw drops.

Nakago teases Tamahome until he’s hard. He shudders at the dark smile on Nakago’s face. "You want this."

"No!"

"Yes." Nakago brushes his fingertips over his own chest, drawing Tamahome’s eyes to his pale, toned body. He unties his sash, and his shirt opens, revealing a chiseled stomach. He lazily strokes his hand up and down his torso, then reaches down to cup his own impressive erection. "Oh, yes," the general hissed. “I know when a man wants me.”

Licking his lips, Nakago lets his shirt fall over his broad shoulders; Tamahome’s cock twitches in response. White moonlight streams through the tower window, illuminating Nakago’s pale, pale skin. He is absolute perfection.

"Glad you think so." Nakago smiles.

Did he say that out loud? Could Nakago hear his thoughts? What would—?

"Ah!" he gasps.

Nakago’s warm hand snakes inside Tamahome’s pants, untying the draw string and pulling them the material over his hips. "Ho. At least you’re not a complete disappointment."

Tamahome bites his lower lip as Nakago fists him. He tries to keep still, but the drug . . . His hips rock forward, pushing him into that warm hand. 

Nakago rips Tamahome’s pants off and flings them across the room. He grips Tamahome’s hips hard enough to bruise.

"Nakago, stop," Tamahome pleads.

A sharp slap—his lips cut on his teeth and his ears ring. Tamahome squints at the general. 

Nakago tilts his head. "Bitches beg for what they want, boy." He smacks Tamahome across the other cheek.

"Fuck you, you vicious prick!" Tamahome hisses.

Nakago laughs as he unlaces his trousers. The material slips off the crest of his hips and piles at his feet. The older man twists the chains around his forearm.

"There. There’s still some fight in you, Tamahome. It makes breaking you so much more fun." Nakago pulls Tamahome roughly against him, their lips less than an inch apart.

Another kiss. Molten, bitter. He moans as Nakago bites and licks at his lips. He struggles, but the other’s hold is crushing, impossibly strong . . . and he . . . part of him doesn’t want to resist. He lets Nakago kiss him, lets Nakago’s hand shape him, tease him, stroke him.

Nakago unhooks the shackles on Tamahome’s ankles, freeing his feet. The blood rushes back into his legs and he startles a bit, but Nakago clutches him close, steadies him. Tamahome is surprised to find himself rocking against Nakago’s robust thigh.

"Ah. You do want this, you little whore." Nakago chuckles, jerking Tamahome’s stiff cock.

"I hate you!" Tamahome glares.

"I hate you too," Nakago whispers tenderly, spreading Tamahome’s legs to nestle between them, mashing their hips together, grinding hard. 

Tamahome arches up again, desperate for more pressure, more friction. He hates Nakago. He hates himself; hates his weakness. But he can’t think about his mission, the others, or sweet Miaka. Right now, he wants Nakago, there, humping between his legs, driving everything of himself away with each thrust.

"Ah!" 

Nakago increases his pace, rolling his hips in wide circles. Tamahome wants to clutch handfuls of that golden hair. “Let me . . . Let me . . .”

Blue eyes stare down at him. “What?”

“Let me touch you too,” he says in a rush.

Suddenly Nakago stops, smiling thinly. He reaches up and unhooks Tamahome’s right hand. He lurches a bit, suddenly dangling from his left wrist, but at least now he can reach out, touch his tormentor. 

The blond man slides down his body and rests his chin just above Tamahome’s purple shaft. He flicks his tongue over the head of Tamahome’s cock, and it’s so good, so obscenely good.

Tamahome throws his head back and groans, coming just a little from the sight. Nakago uses his tongue to coat Tamahome’s shaft with hot saliva . . . stabs at his sensitive slit . . . swirls the head of his prick. 

“Ugh.” Threading his fingers through Nakago’s hair, he lifts his hips and whimpers.

"Bitches beg, Tamahome. Beg me."

"Please," Tamahome whispers, a tear escaping. 

Nakago doesn’t laugh. If anything, he looks a little . . . sad. He takes Tamahome all the way into his mouth, until the head of Tamahome’s cock brushes against the back of his throat. Then, he bobs up and down. 

Tamahome’s never experienced such tight heat, such wet warmth. He comes, gasping. Nakago savors every drop, which confuses Tamahome. 

The Seiyuu soldier stands up and kisses him, forcing him to swallow his own sticky seed.

He hangs there, panting, waiting for whatever comes next. 

"Mm." Nakago swallows sharply. "Did you enjoy that?"

Tamahome glares, breathing hard. He can feel himself getting hard again, and he cries out in frustration. "You bastard! You drugged me!"

Nakago’s eyes flash. "Yui drugged you. I am helping you deal with that. It’s part of your training."

Tamahome gulps. "What the hell does that mean?"

"You belong to Seiyuu now." Nakago kisses him so hard that their teeth scrape. "You taste like salt. Salt, and something else. Something I don’t like."

Tamahome shivers. Nakago is insane.

The blond man cocks his head to the side, pondering. "You smell like that girl—your damned priestess." Nakago grips his hair, snapping his head back. "I want you to taste of me!"

Suddenly Nakago unhooks Tamahome’s other hand, and he falls, limp and weak, into Nakago’s waiting arms. Nakago pushes him down to his knees and grabs his hair. He positions his cock at Tamahome’s lips.

Tamahome’s mouth waters. He takes what Nakago gives him, trying hard not to gag.

"That’s it. Good boy.” Nakago’s words sting, but he thrusts slowly and gently. He eases his cock past Tamahome’s lips, groaning. "Even better than I’d thought it’d be," Tamahome just barely hears him murmur.

Nakago lets him experiment for a few moments, forcing his throat to relax, taking more and more a little at a time, until he figures out how to breathe and fill his mouth with warm saliva and use his tongue to tease the underside of that huge prick. "Now, suck," Nakago commands.

Tamahome sucks, closing his eyes, trying his best to imagine what Nakago would like. His mind wanders a bit; he wonders how he got here, on a dirt floor, being used like a whore and loving it . . . wanting the humiliation, the abuse, the pain . . . needing . . . Nakago.

He stops when fingers tug frantically at his hair.

"Gently! Keep your precious priestess in mind as you work me." Nakago warns, "Anything unpleasant you do to me, I’ll do tenfold to her!"

His eyes sting with hot tears, so he closes them again and nods. This time, he focuses, wrapping his lips over his teeth, using his tongue to swirl around the head of Nakago’s cock. Soon, the older man fucks into his mouth, thrusting deeply and breathing harshly . . .

He hopes when Nakago is done with him, the man will let him die. He wants to die.

Nakago pulls out and says softly, "Tamahome."

Tamahome opens his eyes.

"Come here."

With much effort, Tamahome crawls a little bit closer and then stands. Nakago opens his arms, and he doesn’t bother hesitating, burying his face in the crook of the older man’s shoulder. 

Nakago holds him, lets him cling. "The medicine makes you hurt, doesn’t it?" Nakago asks.

Tamahome nods. "So much." 

"I know. You want it to stop but you don’t think you deserve it." Nakago runs fingers through Tamahome’s long blue braid, working the silken strands out of their simple pattern. "I know. But you need it."

"Yes." Tamahome hiccups. "Yes, I need it."

"And you want it."

"I-I w-want it."

"I am your master.”

“Yes.”

“And you will serve me."

"I will!" Tamahome blushes, not from embarrassment, but from fever. His blood races, so hot. He had no clue what he’s promising; he only knows that he wants to keep his master happy. Nakago gave him something to focus on, a purpose: to please.

"How, Master? How can I please you?" Tamahome whispers.

Nakago softly smiles and wraps his arms tighter around Tamahome. "You wish to please me?"

"Oh yes, Master! More than anything!"

"Oh?"

To show his devotion, Tamahome leans up and licks at the corners of his master’s lips like a dog. 

"Mm." Nakago groans. "Then get on all fours, my faithful slave."

Tamahome bounds out of Nakago’s arms, forgetting his dizziness and weakened state for a moment. He carefully turns around and kneels on all fours, offering himself completely. Wiggling his hips, he looks over his shoulder at his master, begging.

Nakago just stares at him for a while, and then kneels down on the ground behind him. The tip of Nakago’s tongue stabs his virgin entrance. He gasps.

Rough hands part his smooth buttocks. Long fingers splay over his ass, spreading his legs more. Nakago slides his moist tongue up and down Tamahome’s cleft, pausing often to bite the swells of his ass.

Finally, Nakago plunges his tongue into Tamahome’s hole, wetting it with long, slow stokes.

"Ah! Ugh! Na-Nakago!"

"Bitches beg, Tamahome," Nakago reminds.

Tamahome whines. "Please."

Nakago straightens up and drapes himself over Tamahome’s back. "Please what?" 

He can feel the last of his dignity slipping away. "Please, do it to me. Make me come."

”You’ll come if I want you to, and not before.” Nakago spanks him. Blow after blow, until his ass is red and is dick is hard again.

“Yes, Master, yes,” he breathes.

Nakago stops beating him instantly, fondling Tamahome’s balls gently instead. "I should like to use you, slave. I should like to fuck you, until I come deep within you, Tamahome." Strong hands brush down his sides, petting him like a dog.

Tamahome sighs. "Yes, Master, please. I want it so bad."

Nakago spoons against him, cupping his shaft. "Tell your master what you would like. He wants to hear you say it."

Humping into the makeshift tunnel, Tamahome pants. He leans on his left hand and reaches behind him with his right, pushing Nakago’s ass forward, making the older man hump between his legs. "I want your cock . . . fucking me . . . Please, please make it stop. Ugh! I need it so bad . . . Need you . . ."

Nakago groans his approval and presses Tamahome down until his shoulders hit the floor. "Since you asked so nicely . . ." He spreads the Suzaku warrior’s legs, gripping the slender hips up, nudging his cockhead past Tamahome’s tight ring of muscle.

"Oh! Ah!" Tamahome gasps.

Nakago stills, waiting until Tamahome remembers to breathe. Then he leisurely thrusts forward until all of him is inside.

Shivers ripple down Tamahome’s spine; Nakago smoothes his hands down Tamahome’s sides almost compassionately.

The older man pulls out and slides back in, establishing a lazy rhythm. It takes a few tense, agonizing minutes for Tamahome to adjust, but the drug helps. Whether by accident or design, Nakago finds Tamahome’s pleasure center, and he exploits it mercilessly. 

"Ah!" Tamahome convulses, straining his hips up to feel it more.

Nakago sighs, apparently satisfied by Tamahome’s responsiveness. His thrusts speed up, pounding deeply, making sure to hit that spongy nub every time. 

Every gasp from Tamahome encourages a more rigorous fucking from Nakago, so Tamahome sputters and cries out frequently. To be taken this way, like a bitch in heat, thoroughly fucked without any consideration . . . it is perfection. 

"Yes! Harder! Harder, Master!"

Nakago sits back on his knees and grasps Tamahome’s wavy blue hair, snapping the younger man’s head back until he arches like a bow. Tamahome can feel himself tear, the blood slicking Nakago’s prick. He doesn’t care. He likes the pain. Pain means that he’s pleased his master. 

"Anything . . . anything you want, Nakago . . ." he whispers.

"Yes!" Nakago pushes him flat on the floor, spreading his legs and lifting his rump, humping into him with minute thrusts. Tamahome squeezes his inner walls, smiling at Nakago’s startled cry.

The older man sinks his teeth into Tamahome’s shoulder. He rakes his nails through the dust and dirt. Writhing, twisting, pushing, Tamahome bucks both of their bodies up and thrusts back to meet his master’s pulsing cock.

"Don’t stop, Master. Don’t let me come yet!”

Nakago moans low in his throat and slows his slamming hips. "You want more?"

"Yes,” Tamahome hisses.

His master pulls out, flipping him over onto his raw and bleeding back, covering him with his full weight. Tamahome surges up, whimpering. "Want to . . . want to please you . . ."

"Lift your legs," Nakago whispers urgently.

Unsure, Tamahome obeys, draping his knees over Nakago’s broad shoulders.

Nakago eases slowly back in. “You’re so tight . . .”

“Master . . .”

The older man kisses him, his hand wrapping around Tamahome’s dripping cock. It feels so good, so good . . . His loyalty will never waiver, from this day on. "Oh! Master! I’m going to come."

"Not yet. You may not come yet." Nakago smacks his ass.

Tamahome licks his lips and nods in understanding. 

"What are you, Tamahome?" Nakago asks between thrusts.

"I’m your bitch. Your slave!" 

Nakago strokes Tamahome’s dick more firmly. "And whom do you belong to?"

" . . . You?"

A swift slap on his ass tells him he guessed wrong.

"Yui-sama?"

"Yes." Gentle kisses over his brow . . . Nakago humps into him so rapidly now . . . directly over his prostate.

"Oh, Master! Please, please, please!"

"What do bitches like you do, Tamahome?"

"Beg?" Tamahome grits out, wanting to come so badly . . .

"Yes! Beg me!"

"Please!" he wails, his voice echoing around the dungeon. "Please let me come, Nakago-sama! Sweet, beautiful Master, fuck me ’til I come!"

Nakago kisses him hard, then, and grips his ankles, slamming into Tamahome. “Do it.”

"Ah! Na-ka-go!" Tamahome screams, coming all over Nakago’s chest and abdomen. His muscles clamp tightly around Nakago, making the man grit his teeth and moan.

"So fucking tight!" Nakago barks. A great blue light engulfs the tiny cell, strobing violently as Nakago comes, releasing his chi force.

They collapse, the older man tumbling unto Tamahome. He wraps his arms around Nakago’s neck, nuzzling.

Nakago keeps his face buried in Tamahome’s shoulder for a long time, his breath coming in controlled gasps. Finally, he lifts his face and stares at Tamahome.

Tamahome looks up adoringly at his master, wondering what will come next. Did he do well? Was there more to be done?

Nakago gets up off the floor quickly. Without a word, he picks up his clothes and puts them back on. When dressed, he turns his gaze on Tamahome, who huddles at his feet, naked, dripping with come and blood.

"Slave."

Tamahome’s head jerks up.

"You have pleased me well. Tonight, I shall send you food and drink. And I will visit you tomorrow. You need to learn about enduring pain."

Tamahome slinks over to Nakago and rubs his head against the man’s damp crotch. "Yes, Master, should it please you."

Nakago pets his hair, and Tamahome smiles at the reward.

"Good little bitch. You serve me well. You must serve me in one more thing, Tamahome. But we will discuss that later. For now, there are only two rules."

Tamahome gazes up at Nakago.

"You will obey me. And you will never tell Yui-sama of this . . . arrangement. Is that clear?"

Tamahome kneels up and encircles Nakago’s waist with both of his tired, bruised, bloodied arms. "Yes, Master! Not a word."

"Stand."

Tamahome obeys, shivering.

Nakago kisses him softly, tilting his head slightly. The general wraps his arms about around Tamahome’s lower back, as he tastes deeply.

"Mm. You’re so good to me, Master," Tamahome says when they part. 

"You taste like me, now," Nakago murmurs to himself. He presses his lips to Tamahome’s temple. "Rest. And eat when they bring you your dinner. I will come to you tomorrow."

"Yes, Master." He can’t hide his dejection.

Nakago chuckles. "Desirous of me again so soon, slave?"

Tamahome brightens. "Oh yes, Master. I do not like being left alone. Memories come . . . when I am alone."

Nakago frowns, eyes narrowing. "I see. Perhaps, if you think you can behave, you can sleep with me tonight?"

"Oh yes, Master! I promise I can . . . behave . . ."

Nakago brushes the back of his knuckles down Tamahome’s face, then runs his thumb along Tamahome’s lower lip. "Yes, I think I’ll keep you with me, while you're mine. Come."

Tamahome goes to get his tattered clothing, but Nakago stops him with a sharp yank on his chains.

"You will not need them." The general detaches the chains from the hooks in the wall and lifts them casually over his shoulder. "Come."

Tamahome walks forward.

"On all fours, my pretty little bitch."

Demurely, Tamahome lowers himself to the ground and sits at his master’s heel, pleased to see his master’s nod of approval. It feels so good to kneel.

~*~


End file.
